


ghost

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, Christmas, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 15:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: When Sehun woke up that morning, he never expected to be asked out on a date by someone from Hel.Saying yes turned out to be the best decision he's ever made – until the day after Christmas.Fill #9 for my Sekai Secret Santa event.





	ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sekaist94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaist94/gifts).



> I tweaked the prompt a little because I've been reading a lot of Thor fics recently and Norse mythology is stuck in my head. I hope this is alright!

Jongin’s decision to depart Hel for a holiday in Midgard was an impulsive one. As one of the Goddess Hel’s favourites, he is occasionally given the chance and permission to visit other realms – after all, staying in the same place and doing the same things for all eternity can get a little boring. Suddenly struck with the urge to embark on an adventure, Jongin had packed a bag, kissed his mother goodbye, and traipsed into the palace, where Hel agreed to his vacation with a lazy wave of her hand, nails talon-sharp and a glimmering black.

“I shall return in time,” Jongin said, bowing low in farewell before he takes his leave.

The walk to the Gate is a long one, but that gives Jongin ample time to think about what it is he wants to do once he arrives in Midgard. It has been almost half a century since his last visit, so he expects that the realm would have gone through quite a transformation.

Under such assumptions, Jongin took the initiative and borrowed a few items of clothing from a friend who just recently returned from his own trip to Midgard. He shed his simple cloak and tough leather in favour of a pair of stiff pants – jeans, he thinks they’re called – and a short-sleeved shirt that, remarkably, lends no protection to _anything_. But, Jongin figures, if Midgardians feel safe in these clothes, then it must be safe to wear them!

Moments later – ten minutes or thirty or a hundred, Jongin does not know, for time is inconsequential when you are dead –, Jongin arrives at the Gate. Wrought iron, ten feet tall, and impossible to move unless one is the Gatekeeper or Hel herself.

Jongin smiles at the Gatekeeper, an imposing figure clad head to toe in armoured metal. After almost three centuries here, Jongin _still_ doesn’t quite know if the Gatekeeper is human or but a wisp of smoke.

The Gate swings open and Jongin walks through, making a beeline for one of the thickest roots of Yggradsil. From here, it’s a steep ascent to the base of the tree, but it’s a climb that Jongin looks forward to, simply for what lies beyond.

 

 

 

  
He finds himself in the heart of Seoul, South Korea, the country where he was born and where he died.

Throughout the centuries of his death, Jongin has ever only visited thrice. Leaving Hel and entering Midgard is almost like a lottery – one never knows where he might end up. In fact, Jongin once met a woman who found herself floating on a log in the middle of the ocean. She’d been so indignant that she simply gave up on her trip and returned to Hel.

The last time he was in Seoul, it was during the Korean War. Not wanting to be around destruction and bloodshed – he had died thanks to a drunkard and the fool’s rusty dagger –, Jongin turned heel and returned to Yggdrasil, where he took another trip up the roots before he found himself in the Canadian prairies. It was in the middle of winter, but Jongin figured that trudging alone through inches of snow in nothing but a too-tight sweater is better than being in the middle of a war.

Jongin takes some time to drink in the sight of a bustling city, all bright lights, loud noises, and swarms of people. Everyone seems to be in a hurry, and it doesn’t take long for Jongin to figure out that the dirty glances people are throwing at him are because he’s standing in their way. So he steps aside and watches curiously as an incessant stream of people passes by.

Just then, a young couple steps out of a shop to his right and Jongin is immediately enraptured by the pretty drink in the woman’s hand. It’s pink and white, swirled into soft patterns, and he is suddenly overcome with the urge to taste.

So he heads inside, excitement flooding through his veins.

The drink he wants is drawn on a blackboard, hung up behind the counter where many complicated pieces of machinery sit.

“Hi! Welcome; what can I get you?”

“Hello,” Jongin says pleasantly, ambling up to the counter while his gaze remains fixed on the board. There are other drinks – should he try more than one? “I would like to have that.”

He points at the pink drink – _strawberry sakura frappe_ , the curly lettering beneath reads – and finally sets his gaze upon the shop’s employee. Jongin’s breath hitches.

“Sure! Which size would you like?”

“I would like to take you on a date,” Jongin finds himself saying, blunt and clear.

The flood of colour that rushes up a slender neck and high cheekbones has Jongin’s blood singing – if he had any to begin with, that is.

“Oh! I, um, –”

Jongin smiles brightly, hoping that it might help soothe the man’s frazzled nerves. Alas, all it seems to do is cause him to stumble over his words even more.

His co-worker steps in, looking quite pleased. “Sir, pardon my intrusion, but have you just come up from Hel?”

“Yes indeed. I haven’t been to Midgard for quite a few decades now –” he pauses, gaze flickering over to the still-blushing man. Jongin leans a little closer and drops his voice. “Do humans no longer court each other verbally?”

He gets a rambunctious laugh in reply. Jongin looks down at employee’s nametag – Baekhyun – then back up at the man, confused.

“No, we do. You just took poor Sehun here by complete surprise. I’ll make you your drink,” Baekhyun says, moving away with a wink and a hard smack to Sehun’s (what a cute name! Jongin thinks) back.

A brief lull, filled with Baekhyun’s whistling and the loud sound of some weird rattling machine, is finally broken when Sehun clears his throat and slides something across the surface of the counter. It’s soft and floppy – oh! It must be a napkin, although Jongin doesn’t ever recall them looking this fancy.

“What is this?” There are numbers scrawled on the surface, but Jongin can’t quite understand what math problem this could be. Math has never been his forte, you see.

“My phone number?” Sehun says, sounding unsure and hopeful all at once.

At the puzzled look on Jongin’s face, Sehun winces and sighs. “Right, you probably don’t have a phone or know how to use one. Um, I don’t get off work for another two hours, and –”

“I would not mind waiting for you,” Jongin beams, and Baekhyun approaches with his drink and a snort.

“Here you go, buddy.”

Jongin takes a tentative sip through the matching pink straw, allowing the liquid to settle on his tastebuds and awaken them. Flavours explode over his tongue, sweet and just the slightest bit tangy.

“This is delightful,” Jongin exclaims, taking a larger sip before he extends the drink and offers it to his date. “Would you like some?”

For some reason, that has Sehun blushing all over again. Oh dear, maybe he should just take a seat and wait until Sehun is done with his work – he wouldn’t want to distract him.

 

 

 

  
By the time Sehun gets off work, Jongin has tried five different drinks, all prepared and brought to him by Baekhyun. They’re all delicious, and Jongin is glad for the fact that food dissolves instantly in the stomach of the dead. He doesn’t remember the feeling of fullness anymore, but he’s sure that five large drinks would have him near bursting if he was still alive.

When Baekhyun brings him the last drink – a chocolate chip mint mocha monstrosity –, he kindly informs Jongin that the drinks were all chosen by Sehun himself.

“You have great taste,” Jongin informs Sehun kindly. He’s finally off work and they’re standing out on the street, shoulder to shoulder, Jongin completely enamoured with the ever-present tinge of peach-pink on Sehun’s cheeks.

“I made an educated guess,” Sehun says, wrapping a scarf around his neck. Thankfully, the column of wool doesn’t hide his cheeks from view. “You seem to like sweet things?”

“That must mean you’re the sweetest of all!” Jongin declares, and Sehun splutters into his scarf.

A hand, warm despite the chill – although Jongin isn’t affected by temperature, he does prefer the warmth to the cold –, wraps around his wrist and Jongin finds himself tugged down the street.

“You haven’t dated much, have you?”

Jongin shrugs good-naturedly, revelling at the fact that Sehun’s fingers are still gentle against his skin. Sadly, the touch ends seconds later, Sehun slipping his hand into the pocket of his coat.

“I died young,” he tells Sehun. “Never really got to experience the joys of dating, and the idea of dating in Hel seems a little… well, morbid?”

Someone knocks into his shoulder and he stumbles into Sehun’s back, barely managing to catch the man around his hips in order to prevent him from toppling over. A squeak escapes Sehun’s throat and Jongin momentarily fears that he might have sustained an injury despite his precautions.

“Have I hurt you? Did I step on your foot, perhaps?”

Sehun settles a hand over Jongin’s, where it’s fitted almost perfectly around his waist.

“No, I’m –” Sehun takes a breath. “Wow, you’re… something.”

Jongin doesn’t quite know what that means and he voices as much. Sehun simply laughs, a bright, happy sound that has Jongin smiling instantly. He would very much like to hear that again.

“You have a wonderful laugh,” he says, and Sehun whisks him further down the street with a chuckle.

They walk for what seems like hours. Indeed, when they finally stop in front of a restaurant, the sun is beginning to set and Sehun declares that he’s hungry.

“Let me, sweet one.” Jongin winks. “The dead do not have to pay.”

So Sehun follows with a smile as Jongin steps inside and lets the hostess check his (lack of) a pulse. For almost two hours, Sehun reintroduces Jongin to the delight that is Korean food, plying him with everything the restaurant has to offer just so he can keep that look of pure wonderment on Jongin’s face for a little while longer.

He makes a mental note to leave some money behind – it won’t be enough to compensate for all of the food that disappears in Jongin’s non-existent stomach, but at least Sehun won’t feel too bad.

“So, will you be around for Christmas?”

Jongin drops his chopsticks. “Oh goodness, is it really Christmas season?”

“Well, there’s still a month to go.” Sehun picks up a large piece of bulgogi and pops it in his mouth. “But yeah, Christmas is coming.”

“A month, you say?” Jongin swallows his mouthful of food and hums. “I have never left Hel for that long.”

Just like that, Sehun’s expression drops.

“For a second,” he says, staring down into his bowl of soup, “I forgot about the fact that you have to return.”

“I shall stay for Christmas,” Jongin promises. “Will you show me around until then?”

Jongin is relieved to see a small smile replace the frown on Sehun’s face – he would not want to be the reason that such a beautiful person is upset.

 

 

 

  
The first week goes by in a blur, the days spent taking Jongin around to all the tourist spots. After a discussion with his boss regarding the unique situation at hand, Sehun has managed to a fair number of days off work. When he does have to go in, Jongin simply waits until Sehun’s shift is over, graciously allowing Baekhyun to experiment on drinks, slurping each one down and providing the barista with his genuine thoughts.

“He’s trying to get a drink up on the menu,” Sehun informs him one day, allowing Jongin to pull him close with an arm around his shoulder.

“Is there a reason why they’re all blue and green in colour?”

Sehun snorts, reaching up to curl his fingers into the spaces between Jongin’s own. “Yeah, he wants to name the drink ‘Uranus’. He just wants people to say the word ‘anus’.”

That’s absurd, but Jongin cannot help the burst of incredulous laughter that slips out of him. Sehun smiles, burrowing a little closer to him, and when his laughter peters out into a chuckle, Jongin leans in to drop a kiss to his temple.

“You are simply splendid to be around.”

Having gotten used to the plethora of compliments – trust him, there have been many – that Jongin showers him with, Sehun no longer blushes at every word. Still, they never fail to make his heart skip a beat or two, maybe even dance a little jig, and Sehun wishes with all his might that Jongin will not stop.

They take pictures everywhere, filling Sehun’s phone up (the dead cannot photograph on film) with selfies of them at the front gates of Gyeongbokgung Palace, the busy streets of Myeongdong, the top of N Seoul Tower…

It’s wonderful, having someone’s attention so wholly devoted to you. Sehun’s still unsure as to why Jongin asked _him_ out on a date, of all people, but he sure as hell isn’t about to complain, not when it seems as though Jongin doesn’t regret his decision one bit.

“What is this?” Jongin asks curiously, peering over Sehun’s shoulder as the mortal uploads a few photos of them onto his Instagram account. They’re lounging in Sehun’s apartment, squished onto his couch, while snow drifts down to the ground outside.

“It’s called Instagram,” Sehun tells him, “you can post photos or videos for people to see.”

“How can people see it if it’s on your device? Do you pass it around?”

Sehun turns to bump his nose against Jongin’s cheek with a laugh. “With the help of the Internet, silly.”

The look of abject confusion on Jongin’s face is _adorable_ , and Sehun willingly settles down to explain the entire phenomenon that is the invention of the Internet.

 

 

 

  
The second week is spent showing Jongin everything he’s missed since the last time he came up to Earth. He’s learned how to work the television, the microwave, and the stereo – Sehun stills remembers how excited Jongin had been when colour flooded the television screen.

Sehun brings Jongin to an arcade, and they spend an entire day inside, moving from one game to another as Jongin tries to master them with Sehun’s help. They’d gone home with the extra company of a human-sized stuffed teddy bear that Sehun leaves next to his bed.

They take the subway, Jongin’s eyes wide with wonder as they go from station to station in mere minutes. “Incredibly efficient!” Jongin exclaims, squeezing Sehun’s hand enthusiastically. Sehun makes it a mental note to teach Jongin how to drive.

Jongin quickly takes to the craze that is Korean fried chicken, although he doesn’t seem to like bubble tea very much. He does, however, make full use of his status as a visitor from Hel to obtain as many cups of bubble tea as Sehun wants. Sehun thinks this is a great set-up, and when he tells Jongin as much, he gets a bright smile and a kiss to the nose. Even better. They try all the flavours that Baskin Robbins has to offer – Jongin declares that his favourite is espresso n’ cream, and Sehun takes a big bite of that flavour before leaning in to kiss Jongin on the lips.

For some selfish indulgement, Sehun brings Jongin to shopping malls and pushes him into dressing rooms, arms laden with styles of clothing that Jongin has never worn before. He gets Jongin to try skintight sweaters, leather jackets, loafers, and incredibly tight jeans that does nothing to maintain his modesty. Seeing Jongin in a pair of fitted slacks and a half-buttoned up dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and hair mussed from all the changing, does _something_ to Sehun – Jongin purchases the whole outfit with a wink.

One evening, after Sehun’s shift at the café, Jongin accompanies Sehun to his biweekly dance class and on impulse, decides to join in. To their surprise, Jongin picks up the moves easily, body melting into the music like he was born to be a dancer. Fluid, rhythmic, sensual – Sehun drags Jongin home immediately after class and discovers that he’s just as good a dancer in bed as he is out.

They go skating, Jongin’s limbs flailing every which way as he tries to stay upright. With nothing but Sehun’s hands as support, they find themselves sprawled out on the ice more often than not, bodies trembling with the chill and their laughter. Eventually, after many spills and bruises, Jongin manages to stay balanced on his skates long enough for Sehun to pull him around the rink a few times.

The Christmas tree in Sehun’s small apartment is the brightest it has ever been, fake boughs laden with various baubles and gently shimmering lights. Jongin had laid eyes on a shop selling Christmas decorations and he blazed through the aisles with utmost eagerness – he purchased so many that there are still a few baubles left over.

“Let us take a picture in front of it,” Jongin suggests. “You can post it on the Instagram!”

 _The Instagram_ , Sehun thinks, fighting the urge to pepper Jongin’s face with kisses. _God, how goddamned adorable._

They do end up taking a bunch of photos with the tree, dressed in green and red sweaters, and Sehun does indeed upload a few of them onto Instagram. Jongin beams.

 

 

 

  
The third week is spent watching a bunch of Christmas movies whenever Sehun doesn’t have to work. They while away the time sprawled out on Sehun’s couch, wrapped up in blankets and nursing steaming mugs of hot chocolate as they watch movie after movie. Sehun’s foot starts tingling halfway through the second movie, and Jongin spends ten minutes rubbing the blood back into it – Sehun ends up missing an important scene of the movie simply because he can't stop looking at Jongin's fingers on his foot.

In-between movies, they bake. The first attempt was a hilarious failure, ending with a plume of flour that seems to reach the ceiling, four cracked eggs on the counter, and a whole bag of chocolate chips scattered across the kitchen floor. The second attempt was much more successful, and they’d managed to send dough into the oven to bake. Unfortunately, they came out burnt. The third attempt yielded almost-perfect cookies, crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside, and sweet everywhere. But when Jongin pulls Sehun into a soft kiss, hands bracketing his hips to cushion the sharp pressure of the counter’s edge, Sehun thinks that nothing could possibly be sweeter than this.

More often than not, Sehun falls asleep in Jongin’s embrace, lulled to sleep by the man’s irregular breathing – Jongin tends to forget that the average person breathes – and lack of a pulse. Their bodies fit together, not perfectly, but close enough, and the sensation of such solidity and comfort around him is wonderful.

He wakes to Jongin’s fingers in his hair, the strands themselves smooth and unknotted from how much Jongin has carded his fingers through them as Sehun slumbered.

“Good morning,” Jongin says cheerily, stroking Sehun’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Would you like some breakfast? Some eggs and toast, perhaps? We still have some rice and stew leftover, I could whip up some side dishes really quickly? I would make you a fruit smoothie but I’m afraid the blender still scares me. Hmm, maybe I will give that blasted piece of machinery another shot…”

With a loud, smacking kiss to Sehun’s forehead, Jongin untangles the sheets from around his ankles and rises to his feet. Sehun watches, still breaking through the haze of sleep, and smiles.

A pleasant humming floats in from the kitchen, and while Sehun doesn’t recognise what is probably a song that’s a couple of hundred years old, he enjoys listening to it all the same. Burrowing deeper into the cloud of blankets, he closes his eyes and tries not to think about the fact that Christmas is nearing with every night that slips through.

 

 

 

  
Inevitably, Christmas arrives.

They spend Christmas Eve walking the busy streets of Seoul, Sehun’s gloved hand in Jongin’s ungloved one as they dart from one shop to the next when the cold gets too much for Sehun to bear. Just before the sun starts making its way past the horizon, the city is graced with a sudden flurry of snow.

“Oh,” Sehun breathes, squinting up at the sky. “Is it going to be a white Christmas?” He turns to Jongin and kisses him on the corner of the mouth. “You brought a miracle with you.”

Jongin blinks, something in his face softening. “Me?”

“Well, I think you’re the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen,” Sehun mumbles, a surprised laugh slipping out of him and into Jongin’s mouth when he gets swept up into a kiss.

It’s Christmas, so no one has the heart to grumble about the besotted couple kissing in the middle of the street.

Dinner is forgone in favour of a trail of clothes leading from the front door and into the bedroom, culminating in a small pile of underwear and socks right at the foot of the bed. Sehun doesn’t remember ever having such _happy_ sex – constant laughter and kisses peppered all over faces – and it’s indisputably the best sex he’s ever had.

After, as Sehun basks in the afterglow, Jongin cleans him up and dips into the kitchen for some sustenance. Once his heart rate calms, Sehun slips out of bed and pads, stark naked, after Jongin, finding him standing by a pot of boiling water.

“Have I ever told you,” Jongin begins, resting his bare hip against the counter, “that I love the invention of instant noodles?”

He’s got four different flavours of noodles laid out in front of him, the tiny crinkle between his eyebrows horribly cute as he tries to decide between them.

“I like this one,” Sehun says, crowding close and pointing to the paegaejang ramen. Jongin wraps an arm around his waist and buries his nose into Sehun’s hair, nodding in acceptance as Sehun reaches forward to open the packet.

They end up cooking three packets. Jongin adds a couple of eggs and a bunch of chopped vegetables, all of which he ends up slipping into Sehun’s bowl. By the end of their simple dinner, Sehun’s so full he could burst – in his stomach _and_ heart.

Warm and sleepy, Sehun lets Jongin pull him into the cramped shower, where they stand under the spray and run soaped hands down each other’s backs. They stay there until Sehun’s fingers prune and his eyelids droop, at which point Jongin shuts the water off, bundles them up in towels, and they flop into bed.

“When will you leave?”

Jongin leans in and presses their foreheads together. “The day after Christmas, sweet one.”

“Will you be back?”

“I cannot leave Hel without the Goddess’ permission, and she does not give it out more than once every twenty years.”

He feels the sigh that escapes Sehun’s lips against the dip of his throat, a small puff of air that brings out an ache in his heart that he hasn’t felt in centuries.

“I will do everything I can,” Jongin promises, thumbing at the gentle swell of Sehun’s bottom lip.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Sehun mumbles. “I’m just going to grow older and look older – who knows how wrinkly I’d be when I finally enter Hel? You don’t want to be with an eighty-year-old.”

At that, Jongin has to smile. “There is a poorly kept secret among our realms,” Jongin murmurs. He pulls Sehun closer and kisses his nose. “When you enter Hel, you get one opportunity to, well, choose your age, so to speak. Most choose their 20s or 30s – makes travelling easier, you know. I have, however, seen some choose to spend eternity as a child, or as wizened men and women.”

Sehun exhales, eyes wide, and scrambles to sit upright. “Really?”

Humming, Jongin tugs Sehun back down onto his pillow and tweaks his nose. “Yes. Now sleep, sweet one. As long as you want it, we will have forever to look forward to.”

Christmas Day comes in the form of a breakfast feast in bed. Staring down at the spread in front of him, Sehun guesses that it must have taken Jongin at least a couple of hours to prepare.

“Oh,” he breathes, fingers curling around the edge of the tray. “How am I supposed to say goodbye to you when you keep doing things like this?”

“It won’t be goodbye,” Jongin points out, smoothing Sehun’s bedhead down. “Just a ‘see you later’.”

Sehun eats while Jongin talks, regaling Sehun with stories of interesting experiences that he’s had over the many, many years of his life, both alive and dead. When Sehun finally can’t eat any more, setting his chopsticks down with a clatter and a satisfied belch, Jongin laughs and sets the tray aside.

“I want to give you something.”

“But you haven’t finished the story about that guy who thought he was the prince of the toads.”

“Is Christmas no longer the holiday where people give each other gifts?” Jongin looks so adorably, genuinely confused that Sehun immediately feels bad for wanting him to finish the story.

“It is, it is,” Sehun says, waving a hand and readjusting his position. “I’m sorry, I just got really wrapped up in your story.”

Jongin smiles and reaches out to cup his jaw. “I’ll finish it. But first, let me give you this.”

Deft fingers slip around to the back of Jongin’s neck. A small, platinum cross hangs off a thin chain, the flat of the cross resting just past the ridges of his clavicles.

“This,” Jongin says, finally unfastening the chain, “was given to me by my mother on my twenty-first birthday. It's one of my most important belongings and I want you to keep it.”

The chain pools in the cup of Sehun’s palm.

“This way, you will never doubt the fact that I will return. For you and the necklace both.”

Sehun is horrified to feel a burn behind his eyes. When tears start to well, he clears his throat and turns so that his back is facing Jongin. “Will you put it on for me?”

The pendant is cool against his skin, Jongin’s lack of body heat unable to warm it up. Sehun is more than willing to keep it warm for him though.

“Will you take this, then?”

He reaches into his bedside table and takes out a simple silver ring. There are scratches all over the surface, so Jongin guesses that it’s well-loved.

“My parents had a ring made on the day of my birthday, a tradition they continued with my borther. When we came of age, they gave the rings to us. This is mine.”

It was fitted to his mother’s finger, so Jongin could only wear it on his pinky. But he seems delighted by the gift all the same, thanking Sehun with a kiss and promising to keep it safe.

They brave the crowds just to see the display of festive lights in Everland, queueing for what seems like hours for tickets. It could be worse, Sehun thinks, burying his cold nose into the scarf around Jongin’s neck. He could be here without Jongin.

With enough pictures to last them for a long time, they head home, where they pick out their favourite pictures over the course of Jongin’s trip. Sehun prints them out, slides them into an album, and carefully tucks it into Jongin’s bag.

“I’ll look at them every day,” Jongin says, pulling Sehun into his arms and burying the words into his hair.

It’s a quiet, simple Christmas, but Sehun thinks it’s the best one he’s ever had.

 

 

 

  
On December 26th, Sehun walks with Jongin to the portal site.

At a certain distance from the portal, where the barrier between realms can only be crossed by the dead, mortals cannot take another step forward. It’s cordoned off by steel fences and a gate, and the mere sight of it has Sehun’s gut twisting and his heart plummeting.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Sehun sighs.

“I wish I was mortal,” Jongin replies, smoothing his thumb across Sehun’s cheek. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and Sehun fights the sudden urge to press on the cross resting snugly beneath his sweater.

Then Jongin takes a step past the gate, lifting Sehun’s hand up to his lips. Sehun glimpses the faint glimmer of the ring on Jongin’s pinky.

“I will do my best to return as soon as possible,” Jongin says. “This has been the best trip that I have ever had, and I didn’t even leave my home country. Thank you, sweet one, for everything, for you’ve given me more than you could ever imagine.”

Before Sehun can scrounge up a reply, Jongin’s hands are cupping his jaw and pulling him close for one last gentle, deep, breathtaking kiss.

“Until we meet again.”

With a wave and a brush of his fingers over his lips, Jongin disappears.

 

 

 

  
Sehun takes a day off to travel to Suncheon.

He spends the entire journey looking through the hundreds of photos on his phone, earphones snug in his ears as he nears Jongin’s birthplace with each passing minute.

It takes a bit – okay, a lot – of searching, and his feet are painfully sore by the time he finds it, but when Sehun finally sets eyes on Jongin’s tombstone, he doesn’t feel anything except for the phantom weight of Jongin’s hand in his.

The tombstone is simple and small, the engraving still visible despite its age.

Kneeling, uncaring of how the sodden ground is wet against his knees, Sehun runs his fingers over Jongin’s name.

“I miss you already.”

He stays there until the sun sets.

 

 

 

  
At the same time, in Hel, Jongin lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling. If he stares hard enough, would he be able to look into Midgard?

He lifts his hand and kisses Sehun’s ring. The photo album rests on his desk, open and filled with pictures.

“Missing you, sweet one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you're curious/you want more details:
> 
> 1) The dead do not need to eat/breathe/sleep. When they are in Midgard/Earth, they do so just to blend in. They also do not feel cold/hot.  
> 2) Humans are entirely aware of the existence of the other realms.  
> 3) Visitors from Hel do not have to pay for anything, just as long as they're checked to make sure they are actually dead. Sehun doesn't bother checking (when they first met) because it's really obvious just from how he acts that Jongin is not mortal lmao.  
> 4) The dead have to return to Hel within 33 days (they round down to a month just for simplicity's sake) of leaving. Not doing so will lead to a separation of the soul from the body. (This is entirely fiction, a.k.a. my idea and not based off the mythology.) Some of the dead choose to do this because they don't want to be corporeal anymore.  
> 5) I envision Hel (the realm, not the Goddess) to be HUGE. Like, bigger than all continents put together huge. This isn't really relevant to the story lol but just a little tidbit I guess!  
> 6) The Goddess Hel in this story is nothing like Hela in Thor: Ragnarok. My Hel is very chill.  
> 7) Jongin is NOT a ghost – the title doesn't really have anything to do with the fic apart from the concept of death.
> 
>  
> 
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